In The Wake of Tomorrow
by Mariagoner
Summary: The House of Solidor has always bred extraordinary men. An AU fic that centers around Penelo, Larsa, and any sins they might have committed together. Penelo X Larsa, Penelo X Vayne. Beware disturbing content.
1. Setting the Scene

Title: In The Wake of Tommorrow, Chapter 1

Fandom: Final Fantasy XII

Pairings: Primarily Penelo X Larsa, some Penelo X Vayne and Penelo X Vaan later

Rating: R, NC-17 Later

Summary: The House of Solidor has always bred extraordinary men, as Penelo learned to both her joy and regret. An AU fic that takes place in a slightly altered version of the main game story line and centers around Penelo, Larsa, and anything and everything they managed to do together.

Disclaimer: Nothing but the particular combination of words in this piece belongs to me!

Author's Note: So here it is at last, the full-length, multi-chaptered Penelo X Larsa fanfic I promised myself I'd sit down and write one of these days. First things first, I want to thank all the kind reviewers of my earlier PXL fic, "The Blossom Upon the Bough." If you hadn't taken the time to review, I wouldn't have taken the time to try and revise this enough to post it up on the internet without expiring of shame. So thank you again for taking the time to send a little encouragement my way. :)

Second, I'd like to note that this fanfic is an AU that takes place in a slightly altered version of the game's main storyline. The main alteration is that Larsa is now 15, soon to be 16, in this fanfic, which will hopefully make the future NC-17 scenes a lot less nerve-wracking to write. (You can see what an older version of Larsa looks like by going to this piece of LXP fanart from this wonderful Japanese fansite.) Additionally, he doesn't return Penelo to Vaan and his party until he rejoins them in the village of Jahara, after the Dawn Shard loses its power. What they do until they rejoin the main game party makes up a substantial party of this fic...

And third, I'd like to say that reviews for this are MOST appreciated! This is my first potentially epic-length fic and I would love, love, LOVE to have some feedback over what's working and what ought to be killed with fire within this first chapter here. I wouldn't post my writings up online if I didn't think I could entertain someone besides myself. So please, even if you hated this piece, let me know. I'd very much appreciate knowing someone out there is interested in me continuing this.

And without further ado after this monstrously long opening note... the actual fanfic!

When Penelo met Vayne Carudas Solidor for the first time since she had seem him speak his way into her city's heart, she had initially been more surprised that alarmed.

It had been about two months since she had met Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, since her life had changed utterly. Though really, the changes to her life as a Dalmascan street urchin had probably happened long before-- since her parents died, since her friend Vaan had lost his mind and taken up stealing royal treasures with dashing air captains, since she had found herself stumbling away from the less than gentle hands of her Bangaa kidnappers into the arms of actual, honest to god royalty. And much like the princes she had read about in fairy tales, the one who had taken her hand in his that day also took her under his wing out of some strange sense of chivalry. From the moment they had first found each other stumbling out of the Lhusu mines, Larsa had acted as her guardian and protector, shielding her from the law and protecting her until she could reunite with her friends. Now, thoughtful as ever, he had taken her with him to the Archadian capital with him when he left the sky city of Bhujerba, having her stay by his side until he could gather enough evidence to justifying reuniting them both with Vaan's strange new party.

And so days upon days had passed sluggishly by in the kingdom Penelo found herself within, in a palace thronged by guards and courtiers and strangely helmed judges that stared at her as she wandered by and spoke of her as soon as they thought she was out of hearing distance. Some nights, it was all Penelo could do to not get out of her room, sneak down the long corridors that linked everything within the palace together, slip through the guards that kept a watch on the perimeter of the city and simply walk back to Rabanastre, unarmed and defenseless. Some part of her-- the sensible young lady that her parents would have been proud to raise, the one who always reigned her friends in when they went too far or got in over their heads-- knew very well that the very idea of instant freedom was madness. But when she looked up at the night sky through the grand terraces of Archadia, she could only wonder if the stars looked as beautiful to Vaan wherever he might be.

Penelo knew she didn't have anyone else to blame but herself for the strange sadness that always stirred within her at those points. Larsa, after all, did all that he could to alleviate any loneliness she might feel. He took his duty as her protector seriously, so much so that his devotion unnerved Penelo at times. He had given her his word as he had knelt down before her beneath the skies of Bhujerba and little dissuaded him from his duty now. He spent most of his day meeting with his advisors and gathering information, but as the month had gone on, he had also spent more and more time with her.

At first, he has spent only a few hours with her during the evenings, busying himself with paperwork as she lingered beside him like a forlorn, voiceless ghost. But as days and then weeks had gone by, they had grown closer-- first as acquaintances, then as companions, and finally as something approaching friends. She grew to know well that Larsa had no real people of his own age to be with; his closest companion, after all, happened to be a terrifying judge in silvered armor that called him Lord Larsa and attended to his every wish.

It didn't really surprise her that Larsa seemed to feel just as lonely within this gilded cage as Penelo did.

Each day, he seemed to spend more and more hours with her, doing more and more things: taking her out shopping, encouraging her to go through his personal library, even engaging in friendly spars with blunted weapons. Each day, Larsa seemed to grow more and more content with her company, and more and more inclined to warn her of how dangerous the world outside the palace gates was. And each day, Penelo both looked forward to and was just a little afraid of Larsa's growing sense of responsibility for her, as well as his impending visits.

Sometimes, Larsa reminded Penelo of the princes she had read about in stories, young and beautiful and kind and noble-- and completely, unfairly isolated. And just like those princes, Larsa seemed always in search of someone to rescue, someone to care for, someone to constantly help him over his solitude. Penelo felt thankful to Larsa, she really did. But the way he had of looking at her at times, with a strange yearning that would gather on his face and mist up his eyes, made her feel intensely uncomfortable. She didn't know him well enough to know what it was he wanted, but she knew the world well enough to know that it would be no use giving it to him.

He had his station play in life and she had another, completely different. She could not even begin to imagine a future where the two of them could stay friends after she found herself at home again.

And despite his many kindnesses, Penelo still longed terribly at times for the streets of Rabanastre. She knew she'd never again have the opportunity to live as grand a life as when she had Larsa beside her, tending to her needs and soothing her worries. She'd never again have the chance to attend an actual theatre, or try on dresses that cost Migelo's entire salary for a year, or even just linger about the palace he lived in, marveling at the treasures stored within. If she went back home, the most excitement she'd receive would be from running errands for shop customers or boxing Vaan's ears for "sampling" merchandise he should have delivered.

When she was with Larsa, it was easy enough to put aside her worries, to focus all her attention on the bright animation of his face, the graceful motion of his arms when they sparred together, the buoyant words of hope he always offered her about her future. But when she was without him, as she was too often, Penelo felt lonelier than she had at any other point in her life.

Still, she knew that Larsa didn't know how she felt and, out of a mix of guilt and gratefulness, did her best to turn a cheerful face to all of his escapades and diversions. And when they were together, she usually didn't even need to fake her enthusiasm. Though Larsa was younger than she, the breadth of his intelligence could take her breath away. Unfortunately, his unending enthusiasm in having her share all of his interests often did the same. And so she had been so busy quietly puzzling over some strange political text he had handed her earlier that evening (one of his favorites, he had told her, for preparing him for a future serving his empire) that she had not even seen Vayne coming for her until he was looming ahead.

Life had been so strange as of late that the sight of the Consul of Archadia striding down the halls of Larsa's private quarters seemed almost normal. He looked blasé, in fact, as he made his way over to the bench she perched upon, as if children from the city he oversaw were regular visitors here. But then Vayne turned his luminous eyes to Penelo and she remembered again that strange charisma that had led even die-hard patriots to consider him their best hope for the future.

"I need to speak to you," Vayne said, quietly, and something about the sheer power of him froze Penelo as effectively as a viper could ensnare a hare. But then he smiled and the unexpected gentling of his features, so reminiscent of Larsa's face, put her a little at ease. This close, Penelo could see clearly how many features the two of them shared together-- not merely the darkness of their hair or the color of their pupils, but also the narrow shape of their eyes, the slant of their eyebrows, the aristocratic curve of their lips. Even the way Vayne stood in front of her now, with his hands genteelly at his sides, reminded Penelo irrepressibly of her friend. At the age of fifteen, Larsa had not fully grown into his body yet, but Vayne was an enticing preview of what could come in the years ahead.

Larsa had been kind to her, had listened to her, had scandalized his guardian by sleeping on the floor beside her bed during the first nights, when she had been most scared. Larsa had been kind and surely his brother, whose praises he sang to the sky, would be as well. Vayne might have frightened her in Rabanastre-- his voice, his poise, something about the man was just uncanny-- but he was still Larsa's brother and she was more an intruder in his home than vice versa now. No matter how uncomfortable the discussion Penelo anticipated receiving would be, she knew nothing worse than a headache faced her at its advent.

And so, smiling nervously, Penelo offered her hand to him, letting him draw her into his arms to escort her to his private rooms for an intimate discussion.

A worse fool than she, Penelo later realized, had probably never lived.


	2. Chance Encounter

Someone, back when I was still faffing around in other fandoms, once called me the queen of sick fic. Though I protested mightily at that time (I am, at most, a very minor duchess) and though this isn't nearly as shadowed as some of my older pieces, I'm starting to think they might have been a mite justified in giving me that "title". Please be aware that this chapter contains some potentially disturbing references to violence, sadism and non-consensual activity.

Please note that all reviews are cherished, constructive criticism is particularly beloved and flames are already being braced for. (I have a good feeling about this fic gathering the first of that sort for me!) And without further ado, allow me to present…

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Title: In The Wake of Tommorrow, Chapter 2

Fandom: Final Fantasy XII

Pairings: Penelo X Larsa, Penelo X Vayne

Rating: Hard R

Summary: The House of Solidor has always bred extraordinary men. An AU fic that takes place in a slightly altered version of the main game story line and centers around Penelo, Larsa, and anything and everything they managed to do together.

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Initially, Vayne did play the part of a gentleman well. Her hand placed demurely in his, Vayne simultaneously steered her towards parts unknown while also enquiring about anything and everything that made up the fragments of her life so far. He had the same easy knack for conversation that his brother did and the same concerned charisma, with a paternal patina that Larsa could not quite muster up yet. Hand in glove, he listened attentively as she shyly went on to describe what her home city and his adopted one meant to her, what changes it had gone through over the short years of her life, and even what changes could still stand to be made.

With his cool gray-blue eyes on her, Penelo felt compelled to keep talking almost as a form of self-defense, almost as a way to ward off his contempt. Stupid, perhaps-- she knew knowledge was a form of power and she was just giving it away here, carelessly-- but it was better that flushing like some insipid school girl when he looked at her.

Even if she did wear her hair in pale, childish braids in commemoration to what was gone, to what had irretrievably been stolen away, she wasn't a child anymore. Not in the way Larsa was.

And somehow, before she even caught up, they were soon in Vayne's private and very deserted chambers, standing wordlessly in from of a large and ridiculously ornate mirror that took up half a wall. (The gilt around its edge along could have fed the orphans in her city for a year.) Hands clasped as patiently as she could manage, trying hard not to tap her foot in worry, Penelo stood stock and watched Vayne circle about her with his brother's smile on his lips. She had a feeling she knew what was coming once the usual chatter was done, but it never hurt to be prepared.

"You must know already," Vayne murmured as he maneuvered directly behind her, "that my brother holds you in rather high esteem. But then, you must know just as well that your very presence in Archadia hinges on that single fact."

The blush that had been threatening to break out since she had first placed her arm on his finally did. She should have known that Larsa's brother wouldn't have come all the way from Rabanastre just to socialize with her. And most of his words, Penelo thought with a touch of bitterness, would likely revolve around letting her know a girl from the gutter had better not harbor any designs towards the second-in-line to the mightiest throne in Ivalice. Which was something that-- fine, yes, she knew that already. She was one thing and Larsa (no matter how many nights he had spent the night at the foot of her guest bed, telling her stories about his family's past until she fell asleep out of exhaustion) was another and she accepted that. Some part of her might even agree with it. And she'd simply have to wait this out until she could let Vayne know that no matter how... _everything _Larsa was, she had no intention of falling in love with him.

The world would probably be a better place if all misunderstandings were as easy to correct as this one.

Eyes locked on her own mirror image, she watched silently for a chance to explain herself-- only to find herself gaping with surprise when Vayne leaned forward to to place one elegant hand upon her shoulder and hooked another into one of her braids.

His fingers proved surprisingly nimble as they occupied themselves with untangling her hair.

"He likes you," Vayne whispered into her ear, even as Penelo tried very hard not to fall forward in shock. "So much more so than expected. When he first saw me after your visit, all he could talk about was the beautiful girl who run from her kidnappers right into his arms-- her face, her hands, her hair. The weight of her history, the cleverness of her stories, the tragic need she had for a friend and protector. He even put away the pair of gloves that he had worn when he first met you, said that they reminded him too much of you to sully them on a regular basis."

Penelo fought a sudden shiver as Vayne gently touched his lips to the spring of hair that he had unveiled. "But then, my young brother has always been such a gentleman, chivalrous even to a fault. Always so fond of stories involving knights and princesses, always wanting to be a protector and friend. Why wouldn't he be enchanted with the idea of being that noble hero protecting a maiden as fair as yourself?"

Blond or not, thrown completely out of balance or not, Penelo had never been either slow or stupid. No orphan on the streets of Rabanastre could afford to be. She knew a graceful opening when she saw it, no matter what Vayne's hands might be doing to shake the last bits of composure she held.

"I guess..." Penelo bit her lip, plucked up her courage and plowed on. "I guess in a way, you're not... really wrong about what he feel. Lord Larsa is-- I haven't known him for very long, but he's always been the sort of person who would believe in fairy tales, hasn't he? He hasn't been in the outside world the way I have. Or, I guess, that you have either. He doesn't know that things don't always work out the way they deserve to right now. He hasn't had his heart broken and I'm not sure he's even willing to think that's possible."

And that was simply part of the truth, if not the whole truth. Larsa might be wise beyond her years, but Penelo could see more than just the surface veneer of the boy who hovered so conscientiously over her. The son of an emperor was not someone who existed without perpetual guardians and even his obvious loneliness could not blind her to that fact. He had and likely never would go through what she went through and maybe it was stupid, but some part of her (some awful, petty part that was unworthy of him) resented that.

Still, despite her jaded thoughts, Penelo smiled as widely as she could at the mirror image whose eyes were still fixed on her face. "But that doesn't mean you have to worry about us being friends. We're just... that. And that's that. He's a sweet boy, probably the kindest I've ever met. And you're right, he might... I guess he might like me more than he should, really. But he's so young and believe me... you don't have to worry about me taking advantage of him. He'll forget about me as soon as I can find a way to go home again."

People might say that absence made the heart grow fonder, but Penelo knew all it did was make existing emotions grow dull. And that was that, as far as Penelo was concerned. It didn't matter how much Larsa fancied himself to be her protector and guardian-- nothing in this world could possibly make their connection, tenuous as it was, last past the moment she found herself in again Rabanastre.

But seemingly deaf to her words, Vayne turned his full attention to her hair, until suddenly all of it was alight on her skin. Through the sudden haze of white gold on her shoulders, Penelo could see Vayne's eyes as they flickered over her form with near-military precision. Throat a bit tight, Penelo wondered if he had bothered to pay attention to her _voice_, rather than... whatever he was picturing here.

His next words seem to indicate that he really hadn't. "Where did you get this dress, Penelo? Was it a present from my brother himself?"

Blinking, thrown off again by the sudden change of subject and heat of his hands suddenly smoothing her skirt over her thighs, she barely managed to nod a yes. "I-it was. He's been very kind to me this whole time, even when it's just... little things like this. When he learned that my old dress tore too much to wear, he took me shopping as soon as he could." And paid for it as well, though that went without saying. If Penelo had worked hard for the next decade as a shop clerk of Rabanastre, she likely wouldn't have been able to afford even a single garment at the dressmaker Larsa had taken her to.

Again, Vayne interrupted her. "And the guest room in Larsa's personal quarters-- you've been staying there?"

Still feeling off-kilter, Penelo slowly nodded again. "Lord Larsa told me that since no body else was using it, I might as well have it. He was... worried that I'd be scared if I wasn't next to him." She couldn't quite bring herself to confess that that was more or less the truth, or that she was torn between being more grateful than she could say for that insightful kindness and upset at her own self for that fact.

Mouth compressed in a puckered line, Vayne barely let his lips move when he spoke next. "And I suppose next you'll be telling me that he's been devoting more and more moments of his life to elucidating your entertainment."

Turning her head slowly to see Vayne-- the actual Vayne, not merely the mirrored image before her-- Penelo found him silent and glowering, waiting expectantly for an answer. "It's... it's true that we've been spending more and more time together. He's-- like I told you, Lord Larsa is a kind person, and he knows I've been lonely and he's just, we're just doing it until I'm home again. I swear. Honestly, I swear!"

Perhaps the last of her almost panicked words amused him. Vayne's lips twisted into a parody of a smile, into something that barely resembled anything that could be found in his brother's face. "So all the while that you've been here, you've wasted my brother's time by asking him to entertain you, by making him cater to your every wish and whim, by forcing him to sacrifice all his attempts to better himself. Have I read all that right or is there something you'd like to forward on your behalf?"

Penelo's eyes widened so much that it almost hurt. "No, I haven't done anything like that! How did you-- how could you even think of it being something like that?"

Something that might have almost been a chuckle made its way past Vayne's lips. "So I was right-- and so you will deny it. But then, asking a hyena to confess to its crimes against a lion is an exercise in deception from beginning to end."

Something in Penelo's gut twisted and wrenched at the strangeness of his words. But she hadn't been-- how could he just assume-- what gave him the right to decide that--

But even as she tried to turn away from the mirror, away from a Vayne suddenly so close his breath stirred he nape hair, she found herself unable to move. His arms held her to his chest, his knee parted her legs, and her fledgling strength was like nothing as she struggled against him.

For a few minutes, the world was a blur of metal and glass against her scraping fingers, composed of nothing more than dark hair and forceful hands and the keening need for a weapon that would not find itself within her grasp. But Vayne was too near and too strong, and Penelo knew that his hands could clamp over her mouth and dislocate her jaw in a minute if she screamed. And Penelo, who had always been the most cautious of the youth among her city, the one to drag a friend away when they met something too terrible in the field, knew the impossible when it looked her full on in the face.

"Why aren't you letting me go?" she whispered when all else failed, when he pressed so hard against her that she knew his armor would leave angry marks against her flesh the next day. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because," he said softly, eyes still fixed on her mirrored gaze, "when destiny comes knocking, even an urchin like you must answer it."

Breathing hard, she waited another moment. His eyes lowered to take in the panting of her mouth and the slow but uncontrollable trembling of her limbs.

"Because," he continued, his voice like an asp's tongue against her ear, "when a hyena invades the lion's den, it's measure must always be taken. Tell me, fair Penelo, what have you and my poor brother been talking about in all the time you've spent with him? Tell me-- before I leave nothing but dregs for my brother to enjoy later."

Penelo broke. Halfway in and out Vayne's arms, the golden glint of his blade against her breast reminding her of what he promised, she broke, telling him anything and everything they had talked about-- silence and strangeness and the possibility of forever, family and expectations and the absence of dead brothers, everything that could occur in the past and in the future, the weight of his life and the recklessness of hers. She had no idea what was new and what was old to Vayne, only that the sound of his voice alone could still the pressure of his thumb and forefinger against her neck and the weight of his blade upon her back.

In the mirror, between the white that bloomed from beneath her eyelids as Vayne slowly but meticulously choked her, she could see a girl with pale hair slowly crumple to her knees, a cloak of crimson and shadow seemingly spreading against her form as she went down, down, down…

Drowning, she was, white faced and drowning, with the possibility of resurfacing falling back further and further.

And then, laughing softly and tightening his grip on her throat to still her words, Vayne went on to tell her about his own past. About the weight of expectations given to any man of his family. About the father who had demanded much and given little in return. About the slow but necessary realization that the milk of mere human kindness was nothing without the might to enforce it.

About everything he had already done to preserve Larsa's innocence and inexperience-- and how little mercy he was willing to render those who sought to broaden his brother's ambitions.

"Why--" Vayne had hauled her back up to him, but she still spoke, rebellious, terrified, trembling, not stilling any words: "Why are you telling me all this? I don't understand-- I've already told you what's happening here! I don't know about anything political, and I'm not trying to do anything with your brother!"

There were tears forming already in her eyes; she fought them back as best as she could as she spoke as fast as possible. "He's my friend, it's not my fault he likes me, even if it was, I wouldn't--"

Vayne's hand tightened against her shoulder again and the pressure alone was enough to silence her. "Listening to you, I can almost understand why Larsa is so... infatuated. You lie so well, as though you had no idea what you were doing with him. As though you would actually take pity on him for his weaknesses. But then, you probably knew he was an easy mark from the start, didn't you? Like you said, he's so young, so unused to the fairer sex, so susceptible to even the basest of maidens. Tell me, how many private dances have you given to men on the streets of Rabanastre to pay your way after your parents died?"

Her head snapped back in shock, with only Vayne's hand on the back of her skull forcing her back to her original position. His voice went on, sinuous as ever.

"I'm less easy to fool than my poor brother is. I've always known what you must be, even if he hasn't. How many men have you danced with already, little Penelo? How many have you seduced in hopes of security and power? Tell me, what's the price of virtue on the streets of Dalmasca, anyhow?"

The world misted over suddenly under the first of her tears. What Vayne could not do with his body, he did ably with just his mouth.

As if he knew, as if it mattered nothing at all, Vayne's voice went on, smoother and darker than ever, even more potent an instrument than when he cast his spells over the Dalmascan crowds. "I've dealt with women like you a thousand times before, women so willing to gain a scrap of security and comfort that they would trade their souls for it. I have-- but he hasn't. And whatever you think you know about my brother, I knew him first and best. He has a destiny to fulfill for the House of Solidor-- and someone like you has a very limited place within it."

And then, as if by magic, he released her, only holding her again as she fell back against him in shock. "In the end, I don't really care about what you did before you met my brother-- only about what you'll do with him now. At first, I was afraid you might encourage him in his delusions of helping Dalmasca, of being the new boy emperor and stealing the crown from upon my head. But I see now you don't even have that consequence. The worst you've done is waste his time worming your way under his skin. The House of Solidor has had its share of whores over the years, and I doubt you'll be any more trouble than the previous ones we've kept. And believe me, Penelo, it would be better for you not to disappointment my expectations now."

If someone saw them now, she sagging in his arms and he supporting her, they might have been thought of as lovers. Penelo tried hard to choke back another cry, fought hard not to let him win in this final way. Almost as if he knew, as if he was amused, Vayne snaked one arms against her waist, forcing her up and pressing his hips against her lower back. He was as cold and hard as a steel knife, and far, far worse was the hurt that he could provide her.

"The House of Solidor doesn't forgive, sweet Penelo. And if you injure him and his place in the world, I'll never _forget_."

His gloved hands slid slowly down Penelo's front, over the slope of her shoulders, down the side of her breasts and the curve of her hips as in a caress, returning upwards only to adjust the straps of the dress that had been dislodged in their struggles. Weeping honestly now, Penelo closed her eyes, not wanting to see his hands on her body, not wanting to see his reaction to her pain. If she had the power just then, she would have gladly killed to escape the circumference of his arms and the weight of a body far too intimate against hers. If she had the ability, she would have gladly ran from Vayne's eyes and mirrored grin, crossed all the wide world still in the making in an attempt to be rid of him.

But there was no way to escape, not without Larsa, and no place that would be guaranteed to be free from Vayne's suffocating promise.

And almost as if he knew her thoughts, Vayne buried his face against the mass of her unbound hair and began to laugh for the first time since she had met him.

--

When Vayne let her go, she was sick almost immediately afterwards, retching dryly and hopelessly even before her body hit the cool marble floor. On all fours, listening to the sound of herself vomiting, she could hear Vayne walk away and almost taste the disgust congealing in Vayne's throat when he spoke.

"Remember what I said, Penelo, and remember it well. I am not in the habit of allowing second chances."

And then he was gone and Penelo was left alone, the front of the dress Larsa had bought for her earlier now hopelessly stained with a mixture of bile, tears and blood.

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**Author's Note**: Even I'm not really sure where the dark new turn in the middle of this chapter came from. We all know Vayne is ruthless in seeking power-- he willingly killed so many of his own flesh and blood in the pursuit of it, after all. However, I'm not sure if his threats to Penelo (which are probably exactly as dire as you can imagine them being) are the sort he'd act on if he felt they were necessary for the pursuit of his goals. Perhaps he'd just kill her, rather than take the time to break her in a far crueler way. I knew that this fic would be a rather melancholy being, but what Vayne did (or rather, what it felt right to write him doing) in this fic took even me by surprise. So if you found his part in the fic OOC, let me know-- you're probably right!

In any case, I'm not at all sure if I'm ready to start writing new chapters of this fic anytime soon. I've actually finished the first draft of an Larsa X Penelo AU fic that has the same general idea as this fic (an older Larsa meets and rescues Penelo, takes her back to Archades, eventually falls in love with her, etc.) but is far more light-hearted and humorous over all. I'd almost call this new fic a rewrite-- except that in terms of it's general tone and even character development, it's a different beast altogether. In any case, you can expect the first chapter of the new fic (tentatively called "In the Hour Ahead of Us") to drop sometime next week.

As for the future of this fic... it's all up in the air at this point, really! Perhaps I will continue it, perhaps I shan't. But in any case, thanks again to everyone who reviewed the first (horrible, horrible, _horrible_) chapter of this fic. It wasn't a promising start but I'm decently happy with what came after it-- and I wouldn't have had the patience to grind it all out without the encouragement of my reviewers. Thanks again for that. :)


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